


Cue The Sun

by LovelyArtist



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos is Autistic, Carlos is a Good Boyfriend, Cecil Is a Good Boyfriend, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Established Relationship, M/M, Sleepy Kisses, Stimming, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 10:45:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9436754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyArtist/pseuds/LovelyArtist
Summary: Sharing breakfasts and coffees and sunrises is very neat.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [This Song ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eeJFCc5_1nU)

Carlos blinked his eyes, once, then twice. He started to stretch, but stopped himself when he noticed the arms around his middle. The corners of his mouth quirked in a small smile. In a sleepy haze, he found the hands attached to the arms around his middle and pressed a kiss to each knuckle one at a time. A scientist is always thorough.

Even if it’d been years since he’d started waking up like this, the novelty of waking up in those arms never wore off. Speaking scientifically, it was irrational. Logically, repeated exposure to stimuli should make one more or less immune to said stimuli. Illogically, Carlos hoped he never would.

Carefully, so he wouldn’t wake the other, he unfolded himself from the loving embrace. He carefully placed the hand that had previously been pressed against his chest to the pillow, so Cecil was more or less in the same position. The scientist shifted, his feet on the soft-carpeted floor, and turned to look back at his boyfriend. His bangs were tousled so they hung in his face a bit, and his face appeared unworried and peaceful, as if there were nothing in the world that could disturb the pleasantness of his soft features. Carlos knew, and occasionally hated, that this was not the case. That a lot of things in Night Vale could force those features to change, to shift to expressions of fear, or anger, or pain. But even with this knowledge, it was nice to have the image of a peaceful, content Cecil.

Carlos smiled. The mattress squeaked almost silently beneath him as he leaned, then brushed those bangs from Cecil’s forehead, and kissed his temple. Even still asleep, Cecil smiled, pushing his face into Carlos’s pillow with a happy little hum. 

Were it possible, Carlos would’ve fallen even more in love _instantly._

Carlos yawned quietly, taking his plastic framed glasses from the bedside table and slipping them over his ears. His joints creaked and popped in complaint as he stood, worn with age and a life lived with little restraint. He shuffled across the bedroom to the ensuite, and followed his usual morning routine of toilet, washing his face, brush teeth, etc. He didn’t have to go to the lab this morning, but he found that if he _didn’t_ follow the same routine in the mornings, he often forgot to do things at all. That excluded those days that took a lot more fight, when even the smallest tasks took deliberate thoughts to do specific deliberate actions. Generally, though, routines were good. 

With the tingle of overly-minty mouthwash still in his cheeks, he quietly walked out of the ensuite and through the bedroom. He closed the door behind him, walking down the hall to the kitchen. He hummed quietly, the house still dark and quiet from the sun not having risen yet. He made his way to the coffee cabinet, where Cecil kept nearly every coffee and tea known to man. Carlos didn’t trust himself to be able to hammer coffee beans quietly, so he opted to make the pre-hammered stuff today. He filled the coffee machine with water and (quietly) chanted the appropriate incantation to make the spirits of the coffee machine recognize his pleas, his acknowledgement that he is but a puny mortal making a request of powerful immortal beings and thanking them for their assistance, and made sure the coffee filter was in the basket correct, because the last time someone had made coffee it came out with a little more grounds than what is normally preferred.

Carlos hummed as he mixed the ingredients for pancakes, delighting in the sizzle and hiss when the batter made contact with the skillet. Five years ago, he barely cooked. He mostly sustained himself on microwave burritos and pasta, with the occasional crock pot meal when he was feeling ambitious. Generally anything that he could easily fix and consume quickly so he could get right back into work, or at least what was easy to fix and eat when he realized he’d forgotten to eat that day and needed quick nourishment. Then he started waking up at someone else’s apartment. And having someone else wake up at his. And wanting to make breakfasts for that someone. The same someone who showered him with praise and thanks and love and affection for the gesture, even when he accidentally summoned an eldritch horror by overcooking the green beans. (Although, after it had been returned to its Lovecraftian dimension and the meal was served, Cecil did comment that food was much more satisfying after having to fight for it and Carlos couldn’t help but agree). Carlos chuckled at the thought. How people change.

The coffee machine gave a strained gurgle and a low whine, and Carlos switched it off. He emptied the filter into the trash, which purred in thanks for its daily coffee fix, then poured some of the bitter liquid into a mug. He poured coffee into a second mug, then took some of the almond milk from the refrigerator to sweeten it. He took a tentative sip from the sweetened coffee, and set the unsweetened mug on the other counter.

He hummed, using a spatula to flip the circle of pancake batter on the pan. It made a loud hiss in reply, the edges bubbling a bit in the butter. Carlos glanced out the window above the sink, at the dark horizon. He’d woken up before the sunrise. Cacti dotted the horizon in purples and greys in stark contrast of the brown sand, their arms stretched like villagers worshipping some long dead god. Carlos flipped the cooked pancake onto a plate, and poured batter for another, and then another when that pancake was done. 

Carlos was happy, inexplicably so. Not to say he wasn’t happy most days, but this day he felt even more happy than usual. It was one of the rare days that he and Cecil had a day off together. Since those days were often few and far between, as they are with plenty adult relationships, when they did happen, Carlos spent the day walking on air. (Not literally, thankfully. Although the last time that happened, they did manage to get a lot of spring cleaning done.)

Carlos jumped slightly in surprise at the sound of the sudden shriek. He glanced up at the window again, seeing the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon. The sky was awash with color, a dark, dark purple fading into a gradient of reds and blues, with a light green just touching the pale yellow of sand. The scientist smiled, feeling a sense of wonderment at the sight. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel as though the sight was incomplete. 

He glanced at the coffee cup on the counter, the liquid inside still hot, still bitter, and still unsweetened. He knew it would be a little selfish. But at that moment, he wasn’t sure he minded. Or that Cecil would mind, either.

The scientist split the pancakes between two plates, and put a dollop of whipped cream and bloodberry syrup on both stacks. The plates made a quiet ‘clink’ when they were placed on the front porch, along with a fork and knife with each. He took the sweetened mug, and put it next to one of the plates, then took the unsweetened mug with him into the bedroom. 

Carlos smiled fondly at Cecil, whom in his absence had slowly morphed the blankets into one solid cocoon on his side of the bed. Carlos set the mug on the bedside table, and peeled the blankets away from Cecil’s face. “Sweetie, wake up,” Carlos said softly, kissing him on the cheek.

Cecil made a muffled little _“mmf”_ noise, trying to bury himself back in the blankets. Carlos laughed, tugging the blankets down a little more, and shaking his shoulder gently. “Sweetheart, wake up,” he urged, “I made coffee?”

Cecil opened one eye, squinting from lack of glasses, and his mouth curled into a little smile. “Mmmm,” Cecil’s voice was heavy with sleep. “Good morning, my love.”

“Good morning, sweet pea,” Carlos pressed little kisses to his mouth, smiling the whole way through. 

Cecil made another little _“mmf”_ noise, but instead of hiding himself in the blankets he slowly sat up, stretching his arms and wiggling his hands like a cat kneading. Carlos waited for him to finish stretching before he put the mug of coffee into his sleepy hands. Cecil smiled and took a deep sip from the mug. “Not that I don’t love you waking me up with coffee, but what’s this all about, bunny?” Cecil asked, a small, sleepy smile over his lips.

Carlos smiled, a little sheepishly. “There’s a really, really nice sunrise this morning.” he explained, “I wanted to share it with you.”

Cecil’s sleepy smile got a little wider for a moment. “Oh, Carlos, honey,” he said, “That’s so sweet.”

Carlos kissed his forehead, still smiling. “Not as sweet as you, my honey voiced honey.” Carlos hummed, “come on out to the front porch when you’re ready.” 

Carlos took his own coffee from the kitchen, and brought two pillows from the couch to sit on from the living room. He smiled as he sat down in front of the plate, taking a sip and letting his hands wave around a bit in happiness- no, not happiness. Contentment. Happiness is not the same as contentment. Happiness is like a marching band, loud, grand, and beautiful in its own right. Contentment was more like a solo pianist, subtle, reserved, but beautiful all the same. Carlos hoped he’d always feel that kind of “solo pianist” kind of contentment, especially when it came to his time spent with Cecil. 

He heard the door creak open, and saw Cecil- wrapped up in a sweater over his NVCR tee shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. He had his dark hair brought up in a loose bun, and the coffee cup in both hands. Cecil smiled, and Carlos’s heart melted. “You made breakfast, too?” Cecil asked.

“I made breakfast too.” Carlos nodded. “Pancakes, with whipped cream and bloodberry syrup.”

Cecil sat down on the cushion, putting his coffee mug aside and pressing a kiss to Carlos’s cheek. “I love you.” Cecil hummed.

Carlos chuckled quietly, looking down at his own mug. It surprised him every time to hear him say those three words, so honestly, so whole-heartedly. He hoped the novelty of that would never wear off, either. “I love you too, Cecil.” he told him. 

The screaming sunrise brought their attention back to the horizon, perfectly visible off their front porch. Cecil held the mug in his hands, leaning his head on Carlos’s shoulder. He hummed dreamily, like he could nod off again (even with the screaming).. “You’re right,” Cecil said softly, “It’s a beautiful sunrise. Very neat.”

Carlos put a hand to Cecil’s knee, rubbing his thumb over the soft fabric. “I’m glad I got to share it with you,” he said softly. “Sunrises are beautiful, and very neat, but scientifically speaking, they’re at least a hundred times more beautiful, and even more neat when I share them with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Want to see more Welcome To Night Vale stuff? Want to see an artist ramble about many different subjects, and talk about things they might or might not actually write? Want to aid in understanding cats and what their purrrrpose on our humble human world is? Come follow me on Tumblr at [Lovelylovelyartist ](http://lovelylovelyartist.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> And hey.
> 
> :3c


End file.
